A Cure for Writer's Block™

Her home lay behind her. And the aurora ahead. It would be cooler in the north, as it was in the far south. She could wear a sweater again. Be invisible again. Her body unscrutinized.

She leaned down the slope into the first valley of the first range of mountains. She took her first step towards solitude.

Three valleys later, a plain spread before her. She saw a river, so many trees, and... smoke.

She crept to the edge of the clearing, peered towards the village. Perhaps she wasn't the most original, the cleverest, but perhaps also she would feel...

Breathlessly she pried open the little box on her palm. Her eyes widened.
"How, how could this..." Footsteps approached behind her. She whipped around.
"Hello Kelsey." The smooth, silvery voice said.
"Kent!" She burst into tears. "The box... did you know? How did you know? I-I wouldn't have done this if you had told me... I only wanted this violence to end!"
"Well, Kelsey, if I had told you, you would have shot me."
Kelsey once again turned her gaze to the little casket in her hand and the name engraved on its lid. The engraving seemed to burn a...

"You have a sever condition, sir..." The man in the white coat checked his clipboard. "However I have treated many patients like you before, although not quite like this." Normally news like this would be shocking... if you weren't, however, from the future.
"You're symptoms are baffling..." The doctor paused to look at me. "You're taking this all quite well... do you understand the severity of the situation?" I smirked, did this man really think he could possibly understand the implications of his words? Oh well, it didn't matter, the world would only exist for a few more minutes anyway....

"When you're lost in the woods, stop moving."

So this is what it had come to. She was about six hours too late for that, arrogance and panic combining to create a deadly cocktail that had grasped her from within, and recklessly put one foot in front of the other until she was alone, stranded, confused, and hopelessly lost.
She'd read books about this. Seen horror stories on the news. And yet, they hadn't prepared her for her own hike, her own little detour off the gravel path just for a moment to capture the beauty of an errant mushroom...

That the church had kept her from the throne was of no matter; she had been born for this, had been promised this by birthright, by the divine right of kings imbued in her very flesh and blood.
Brandishing the sword above her, she swung and missed by a hair as the bishop leapt to the left. He slipped a hand into a hidden pocket, throwing water on her.
"Be gone, witch!" he cried. "There is nothing here for you, nothing that belongs to you. You have been banished by the people."
She seized him by the lapels. "The will...